A Life Shared
by hopestar789
Summary: A short piece about the morning after 3x15.


When Peter woke up, he was alone.

He blinked and shifted, the coils of the boxspring creaking under the mattress. He could hear the thud of his heart in his ears, and he put a hand to his forehead.

The corners of his eye pinched. Did that mean she regretted it? He remembered the other night, selecting a song on the jukebox, the shake of her head when he offered his "but" as a way out, the soft brush of her lips. But he also recalled the way her eyes shied from his face. He remembered her pushing away from the table and out the door. Did it happen again?

He half-wondered if it had happened at all. If it had just been a dream forced by want. He swallowed.

Then Peter thought of her quick nod as he leaned in last night, the smile before she reached up, and the way she didn't look back as she had taken each stair, one by one. He took a deep breath and put his hand out to the sheets beside him. The pads of his fingers traced the indentation in the fabric.

Still warm.

With a groan, Peter lifted himself by his elbows and leaned his back against the headboard. His neck cricked as he rolled it first to one side, then the other. His right shoulder throbbed. All the benefits of sleeping in one half of a twin bed. Afraid to roll back and hit the floor. Afraid to scoot forward and spook the woman he was curled around.

His neck popped again, and he grinned. Totally worth it.

Creaks traveled up the length of the floorboards outside. The door opened, and Olivia pushed it in with her shoulder, a cup of coffee in each hand. Tucked under her arm was a newspaper. She glanced up. A smile, the one she looked guilty for giving, that smile he worked so hard to win from her, spread across her face.

"Hi." Her voice was low, conspiratorial.

Peter breathed in and out, a satisfied, heavy sigh. He grinned back. "Hey there."

Still here. She was still here. His smile grew wider, pulling tight against his cheeks.

Olivia wore only a shirt, the green button-up he'd had on when he answered the door last night. The sun had already crept through the blinds, catching in her hair. She perched at the edge of the room, a flight-prone bird eying a sandwich crust just out of reach.

Peter tilted his head. "For a second, I thought you'd disappeared on me."

Olivia shook her head once, the same as she did when he challenged her last night. _And what do you think we should do about that?_ Her stance shifted, and she moved in, holding out the cup in her right hand. Steam rolled off the top. He took it, looking up at her. Her eyes deep, she stooped and brushed her lips against his. When she leaned back, her eyebrow arched.

"Nope."

Olivia Dunham was never one to turn down a challenge.

Peter pushed forward to press his lips against hers a second time, his free hand cupping her cheek. He lingered there until he felt her sink closer. Peter allowed himself a sly smile before he leaned back. His hand slipped behind her head to thread her hair. The strands were still warm from sun. He nuzzled her nose and rested his forehead on hers, breathing her. She smelled warm, soft, but tangy, orange and cinnamon. His chest tightened.

"Good morning." His voice curved with his smile.

Her eyes rose slowly, the slow blink of a cat. Behind them, there was something sharp, almost playful in her gaze. "Yeah, it is." She backed up a step and walked around to the other side of the bed. She flipped the covers back and slid her legs in between the sheets. Peter watched as she bent her knees and jerked down, balancing the cup to the right over the floor as she shifted. Still, a wave of brown coffee threatened to crest over the rim.

Peter laughed and reached across her, taking the cup from her hand. She let out a small hmmph as she settled next to him, her leg and shoulder flush against his. Olivia sighed and stilled. Her palm flipped up to him. With a nod, he passed the cup back.

"You know, this isn't what I had planned for this morning." He smiled as she unfolded the international headlines and draped it over their laps.

She didn't look at him, but smiled again. "You planned something for this morning? And here I thought I'd managed to surprise you last night."

"Oh, without a doubt. But that's the problem right there."

Her eyes didn't leave the page, but his arm vibrated to her laugh. "I don't understand. What's the problem?"

"Well, no good surprise can go unpunished." He looked at the lines of her cheekbones, the way her hair fell over his shirt. "I wanted to get up, make you some breakfast, watch some really bad morning talk shows about making flower arrangements or whatever else normal people do in the world."

"Normal people?"

He nodded, taking a sip of coffee. "Oh, yeah. Normal people."

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching. "And what does that make us?"

"Just two people." He breathed in, looking at her. "Just two people trying to live a normal life." He cocked his head in feigned consideration. "That sometimes have to stop the end of the world, of course. So that the news we read for normal people stays normal."

Olivia smiled, glanced down at the paper, and handed him a section. She hesitated, and her eyes fluttered, before she looked at him. "I thought we could share it."

The green in her eyes danced, but she didn't turn away. Peter was filled with a sense of certainty, certainty that he didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve her. "If that's alright with you."

She ducked her head, and a small smile played across her cheeks. "Well, I figured it would help, anyway."

Peter rolled his head back, where it struck the wall. Behind the curtain of her hair, Olivia's smile grew wider. He rubbed the side of his skull. "Help with what?"

She flicked a page open to the classified section. "Finding a new bed." She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "This one is far too small for two."


End file.
